


My Son, My Joy

by fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)



Series: Once We Were Young [4]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Slice of Life, baby Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin might be king, but he can still find time for his younger son. </p>
<p>(Odin character study.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Son, My Joy

It would be, Odin thought, an extremely bad idea to admit that he rather missed war. The Jotunheim conflict had dragged on long enough that even Asgard’s normally battle-hungry warriors were instead battle-weary, ready to return to their homes and live in peace for a time. It would be uncharitable for Odin to deny them that peace, simply because he was _bored_.

And bored he was, agonizingly so. After years of spending his days planning attacks, discussing strategy, and fighting wild and fierce – to sit on his throne day in and day out, listening to peasants’ petty complaints against each other, was eye-crossingly dull. Oh, to be sure, there was the occasional case of note, such as when not two, not three, but five men had come to court, each insisting that the same young boy was his son. _That_ had been an interesting day.

Unfortunately for Odin (though perhaps fortunately for the harmony of the farm settlements), petitions such as that were few and far between. No, his life was a never-ending rotation of all the trifling matters he’d not had time to handle while the realm was at war. Receiving petitioners took up much of his day, and what was left was filled with meetings and conversations with advisors and discussions of such weighty matters as whether the rainfall in the south was normal for this time of year, and if not, what it would mean for the grain harvest. He hardly had time to sleep, much less sweep Frigga away and make up for the time he’d spent at war. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his son.

_Sons_ , he corrected himself. He had two now, one golden-haired and wild, one dark and unceasingly curious. It was strange, still, to think of the little Jotun foundling as _his_ , in the same way Thor was. With his firstborn he’d had Frigga’s entire pregnancy to get used to the idea of being a father, but with baby Loki it had been a snap decision, a moment of unexpected clarity in the middle of a blood-drenched battlefield. He’d taken so many lives that day, seen so many more lost to others… it had seemed only fitting, somehow, to put a weight – however tiny – on the other side of the scale.

A sudden murmur swept through the throne room and Odin snapped back to attention, wondering half in a panic whether he’d let his mind wander so far that it had shown. But no, it wasn’t him the court was looking at, and even the petitioner who’d been speaking – a cattle farmer asking for restitution for the cows butchered and eaten by an Aesir regiment – had fallen silent, puzzlement on his face as he looked at something behind his king.

Odin twisted on the throne to follow their gaze, wondering as he did so what could possibly have caught their attention. Not a servant – no palace worker would be so gauche as to be noticed – but behind the throne was only Odin’s guard…

Then he spotted the small dark head bobbing up above the edge of the stairs where they curved back to meet the raised end of the dais. Baby Loki, frowning in concentration, scrabbled up over the lip of the step, then disappeared for a moment as he crawled to the next one before hauling himself upright again, making slow but determined progress toward the throne.

Odin stared for a moment, just as shocked as the rest of his court – how on earth had the child escaped the nursery? – then, realizing that everyone was waiting for his reaction, he stood and crossed the steps to where little Loki was pulling himself to a wobbly stand once more. Crouching, Odin caught him beneath the arms and swung him high into the air, eliciting a squeal of delight. “What in all the realms are you doing here, my boy?” he asked.

“Da,” the baby announced with a broad grin, and Odin could practically feel the court melting behind him.

“Ah, I see,” he said, as if the babble was perfectly intelligible. One of his guards had taken a half-step forward, a question writ plain on his face; Odin signaled him to stand down and instead settled his son into the crook of his arm. To the rest of the court he said, “My son wishes to join us today.”

At his words, Loki looked out over the hall and waved both hands, smiling and making the soft cooing noise that inevitably set Frigga, the nurse, and every other woman in hearing distance swooning. It had much the same effect on the gathered Aesir; Odin heard at least one feminine squeak and saw many faces breaking into charmed smiles.

“You do know how to impress a crowd,” he murmured to Loki, who ignored him in favor of saying “da da da!” to his audience, evoking another wave of sighs. Odin shook his head, smiling, and carried Loki back to the throne and settled himself with his son on his lap. As long as the boy was here, he might as well take the opportunity to be seen with him. He knew all too well the rumors whispered in back halls, about the timing of Loki’s likely conception compared to Odin’s time away at war; knew, too, that a public show of loving fatherhood would go a long way to dispelling those rumors.

The farmer who’d been speaking was now staring at him with an amusing mix of expressions caught on his face: confusion, surprise, nervousness, and underneath it all a soft paternal fondness. Odin gestured, catching his eye; the man shook himself and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Forgive me, your Majesty,” he said hurriedly.

“It’s all right,” Odin said. “Please, continue.”

“Er, yes,” the man said. He hesitated for another moment, visibly gathering himself, but managed to resume his petition.

The baby was cooperative, at least; content to play with the chain of Odin’s cape and occasionally babble softly to himself. Odin caught many of the courtiers watching the child with adoring expressions, and had to hide a smile. Even at his tender age Loki already understood how to wrap adults around his finger.

The farmer finished his speech with a request for repayment for the cattle he’d lost, and Odin made a show of looking down at his son. “Well, Loki?” he said lightly. “What do you think? Does the throne owe this man restitution?”

Loki looked up at Odin with bright green eyes. “Da,” he said solemnly, and stuck his tiny fist in his mouth to chew on. Odin nodded. “I agree,” he said, and turned back to the farmer. “You will be paid in full for your cattle, and interest besides. An army needs food in war, yes, but so too the people during times of peace.”

He signaled a secretary to attend the man, but the farmer hesitated, ducking his head nervously. “Your Majesty, may I speak?”

Odin raised an eyebrow, curious. “Go ahead.”

“If I may be so forward, your Majesty…” The farmer nodded toward the baby on Odin’s lap. “You must be very proud.”

Aware that he was being spoken about, baby Loki looked up, first at the farmer and then at Odin, wide green eyes seeming to ask all the questions he was not yet old enough to voice. Odin could not help the fond smile that crossed his face as he returned his son’s gaze. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I am.”

“I suppose it’s a bit late,” the farmer added, “but congratulations. To you and Her Majesty both.”

“Thank you.” Odin took a deep breath, and made himself remember that he was still in the throne room, still in his official capacity as King of Asgard. He nodded to the farmer, who bowed deeply and turned to leave with the secretary. The herald announced the next petitioner, and Odin returned his attention to the business of running a kingdom.

But that didn’t stop him from letting his son chew on his finger until he fell asleep in Odin’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody stop me... or at least get me a beta to tell me when I'm being ridiculously, unnecessarily fluffy. XD 
> 
> This story was originally part of a three-part piece that included _The One You Must Protect_ , but both stories broke out on their own. I've still got thoughts I want to work out on what a young(er) Odin was like with his sons during their early lives, so I might still get the third part written down, eventually...


End file.
